active involvement is actual relation. the fall of a saint
is the rising of a sinner into sainthood.
nothing can charge this state of
forgiveness.
he occupies the place
I cannot occupy yet. yet I’ll grow into the future
held open by his material representation.
30.09.2014
dissolving time on meaning,
stuck, revealed, assumed; words that came first,
lived their lives yet live in others’ which will die in turn
to live in others’ matter; charge; prediction; mandate; thing; affair.
blocks of poetry
perfectly cut out in words to mean the heavy force of meaning
and perception,
the steady grace of death and language.
seconds have their own life but few pay attention to them.
1, 2, 3, 4.
the heartbeat resembles the ongoing debate between sacred
and profane,
some philosophers would argue.
but let’s make some use of time now.
I am slow in my delivery, on purpose.
I never quite listen to people who rush to tell me what to do.
I normally slow down to make a point.
one of the best news I’ve ever heard
came out recently:
Umakant Mishra, an Indian postman was accused of stealing
less than $1 in 1984,
has been cleared by a court after nearly 350 court hearings
over 29 years.
I find his testimony meaningful: “I had to sell my house in Kanpur,
then I had to sell my land in Hardoi district. I went bankrupt.”
he did various odd jobs to support his family and fight
the legal battle and was supported by his relatives
who helped him and provided him with shelter.
here is a man for whom time only proved that truth mattered
more than anything else.
here is a man who spent 29 years and a fortune to prove
a $1 truth.
God is often understood as the most patient Person ever
– annoyingly so – of microsecond precision
in keeping everything from happening at once – which is eternity.
and that, I believe, is because time is not only a line from A to B,
but a chance, a gift to glance eternity and know the truth.
patience and time may do more than strength or passion but
all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us,
following that old man’s advice, Gandalf.
it’s Advent again, a season of slowing down for something greater
to come,
a season which reminds us that only time makes waiting possible
and possibly rewarding.
04.11.2013, Petrica Bistran
it is all in the moment:
my future, my empty chest, my darling one.
I raise my hand and answer back to all there is
to follow, have and be.
14:14, 11.09.2013, bistran
if you were here as a real person,
my head would not be about blood.
I want to wipe with your presence the densely dark spots
that insist on my meanings.
if I touched the contours of your flesh,
the only concrete sense of happiness would be you.
now you see me, Christ,
as I dig ditches in my clots of sadness
to reach you.
and I’ll drown myself to find you.
there is something sad which is reaching deep within me.
I’ve got a headache.
blocking.
last night I was loving a girl.
after that I was loving a girl again.
after that I was loving once more the girl.
after that I was loving one more girl.
then also a girl.
and another girl.
and I was being happy.
last night it was long ago.
in the interim I married
a girl,
when something sad reached deep within me.
I’ve got a headache.
I want to go.
I love my woman.
she will never be a dirty gossip,
nor the girl from last night
when I was being cheerfully banal, better said,
with something doleful in my brains.
she is not my head.
she doesn’t ache,
nor blocking.
she sings beautifully in French when she cooks,
and she sensibly draws blue trees,
the trees from my prayers.
she knows,
to erase from me,
to make me not want to know
that something painful and sad which is still coming to me.
she gives me God.
teologal is the chance and the claim of stating
the uncultured movement of the divine’s renewing silence,
ploy and sprawling.
teologal is the perfect source for deep human sadness
in relationship to God. God is anguish in all it means
to interact with us.
poetheo 